The Voice Coach
by casuallllfollower
Summary: Christine finds Erik again but in a much different way.


With the summer seasons fast approaching, it was no surprise to Christine that Raoul was again going on one of his month-long excursions to some random hotel for some random business that she would never know anything about. He gambled often and drank even more frequently than he gambled, so while he remained civil enough in their home, Christine would hate to know what he was like out in public with his other colleagues.

Due to all this, Christine revelled in the time she got to spend away from him.

Thanks to years of kindness and tips she'd given to the staff, they remained completely silent about her escapades while he was away. Nothing tawdry of course, but Christine would always invite a new vocal coach to the home to coach her neglected throat whenever Raoul was away. Their pay was from her allowance that Raoul had given her in the beginning of their marriage which she had brightly saved. The idea had only come once Gustave was old enough to know what singing was and he was allowed a voice coach but not she.

When her husband was away, someone came to accompany her!

She never really did the hiring herself. Christine wanted to make sure that the men who were hired stayed utterly silent about their escapades in the de Chagny household, and usually they did. She did not buy their silence with a cheap salary.

There was a quiet lull to the house once Raoul left. Gustave was in his private lessons for the day, and now all that was left for Christine to do was the waiting. Someone would be hired that very day, then that night, after she'd put Gustave into his bed, she would go to the music room and commence her first of a month's worth of lessons.

The door to Gustave's room clicked shut, and with silent feet, Christine headed towards the other side of the manor. It was warm that evening, and her stockinged feet were very glad to be bare of shoes.

Pushing the door open, Christine saw a tall individual reading through some scores at the piano, his height something to gawk at for certain. She'd only ever seen one person so tall.

And apparently she only ever would see that one person, for with a quick glance, Christine was suddenly aware of exactly who had been called on to complete her lessons.

"Oh my," she stuttered, stepping backwards, her heart falling straight through her chest with vengeance.

He turned quickly, for certainly he had known where he was? It shouldn't come to a surprise to his masked features, no, this man shouldn't be _alive _let alone _surprised_.

"Christine?" He breathed slightly, watching her fumble for a chair she knew had to be there. Eventually she felt the velvet arm and fell into the furniture, feeling suddenly heavy.

"It's you…" She couldn't form any other words as he rushed over, attempting to touch her, but she recoiled enough for him to keep his distance.

"It's me… but I'm not sure why you're here. I was called upon by one of the servant girls here, thinking _she _wanted lessons…"

Her breath was weighted in her chest, everything coming to a grinding halt. He really hadn't known this was for her? Had he even looked into where Raoul lived, it wasn't a hard manor to miss. Christine felt vaguely sick at that fact… hadn't he cared at all? Hadn't he wanted to chase her… to know how she was doing? Or was Christine merely fooling herself, her5 decision made and his love forgotten?

"I get the lessons," she spoke, using her new feelings to propel her speech. "I just get someone else to get them for me. Did you really not know where you were going?"

"I simply got an address and room to sneak into, which makes the large sum of money much more obvious now that I know it was not for the poor servant girl. I am proficient in sneaking into places, you know. No extra incentive needed."

Oh what a cruel moment for a joke.

"You've never…" Words failed her.

For some obscure reason Christine had thought that he'd watched her through the days and nights, that somewhere out there, before his death announcement, he'd followed a de Chagny carriage and soaked in every detail he could manage to take in. Then again, he surely would have known about Gustave….

"No, I figured I owed you the privacy. After all that happened… I made a worthy man of myself, Christine. I tutor regular clients with a face mask in the day, and if they become comfortable I switch to the white… It's an honest living."

"Why wear the white here then, hm?"

"Quid pro quo. You paid quite the gorgeous penny to keep my silence, I think you can do the same… or will you run to your little Vicomte without another thought?"

"No," she said determinedly, "Raouls isn't even here. Just my son and I."

She expected more than the slight scoff he gave when finding out about the boy.

"Of course, and how many other little Vicomtes are running around besides your son?"

"I meant what I said… Raoul hasn't been able to have children for a while now."

He did not seem fazed.

"Well, then I suppose it's for the better. We don't need anymore of him running around, fetching women who aren't his to fetch, now do we? Though, I'm sure the rascal you have now is joyous."

"Gustave," Christine said loudly, feeling mildly offended by his accusations. "And he's a very good boy. He's brilliant and… and so musical."

"Does he take lessons? You must foster such promising talent at a young age. Surely he gained this from his mother… I imagine he sings."

"And plays the piano," she chirped, finally finding the motivation to stand.

She hadn't seen him in almost ten years…

"Interesting, well, I hope he becomes something better than his father. Let's begin this lesson you paid for, yes?"

That wasn't a challenge.

"Of course."

And so she was once again in the hands of the phantom of the opera, her angel of music as it were. It had felt like years, but really, he trained her up in a matter of a lesson back to his standards. Really, she just hadn't forgotten how he liked to have her voice. It was his constant persistence over seven years that gave her the confidence she held now, and she would be forever thankful for everything he'd given her.

This lesson and the ones coming up in the future included.

She was so wrapped up in her lesson that she failed to pay attention to the knock on the door. In fact, neither party heard it until the door burst open and the culprit ran in, clutching at his mother's skirts.

"Oh, hello, darling. What's the matter?" She looked up at the man who'd stopped playing at the sight of the boy and tried to apologize with her eyes.

"I had a terrible dream! It was awful! Oh, please come sing to me, Maman!"

Christine kissed the head of her child and hugged him close, kneeling down in hopes to calm him.

"You have nothing to fear, my love. Can you tell me what frightened you so?"

Gustave's head whipped behind him to look at the stranger with a mask in his music room.

"I can't, not with him here."

"He," Erik spoke suddenly, "Shan't say a word, young one. I don't speak to anyone here but your mother."

Biting his lip, as though he only vaguely trusted Erik, Gustave turned back to his mother and sighed heavily.

"I had a dream that father came home and hurt you! It was terrible, and he was very mean! I don't want to dream that, not ever again!"

"You can't control dreams, Gustave, but you can remember that your father is a good man, and he would never do anything to hurt me. Alright?"

Gustave nodded ferociously. "Will you still come and sing?"

"Surely, I will be there in a few minutes. I must let the Monsieur here go."

Gustave kissed her quickly then ran off without a second glance.

"He'll be asleep before I get there."

"His hair was black."

Christine stared at the doorway where her son had just exited and nodded, arms crossed as she bit on one of her nails.

She could feel his eyes on her, so normal if not for the fact that an entire side of his face was marred with twisted and torn flesh.

"How long has he been playing piano?" Erik wondered, his voice cold and shaking.

Still, she did not look at him, "Since he was two."

"Christine…"

"You know," she said with a huff, turning on him and frightening him! What a sight! "I thought I would never see you again when you left me that night. I went back to Raoul feigning something ridiculous like nerves or what have you, and yet I was torn inside. Positively ripped apart."

He did not look happy with this conversational direction.

"I _hated _myself, wasn't entirely sure what I had done wrong to lose you, the man that I had actually loved. And you've been here! In Paris all this time, but I swore that you being dead was better. I convinced myself, because if you were alive that meant that you left because you didn't love me. And what a revelation that certainly was when I found out about Gustave. He was a blessing, Raoul's little miracle, but even he knew. So I had my beautiful boy who reminds me so much of the man I love. And if only that were Raoul because I wish it was."

Her face hurt, for Christine didn't think that she had ever been so angry for such a long period of time in her life. Being a mother to a genius had hardened her, but not so much that she'd lost her love… and hatred for the man who had left her.

"You knew I couldn't stay… that I couldn't have kept you there. I was being searched for every minute of every day. It wasn't safe," he attempted to persuade, but her mind had been made up years ago, on the day of Gustave's birth.

"And when had you ever cared about safety? You dropped chandeliers and wreaked havoc upon the opera staff, those who you didn't murder, anyways."

"You have a fair point, but regardless of if you loved me or not," he said difinitively, "That boy is mine."

Christine could have thrown something at him.

"And what does that matter now?"

"Do you love me?" He inquired back, walking up to her and looking down, as if he was to intimidate her.

"I can't answer that," she stuttered.

Christine attempted to lean away from him, but he pursued her further.

"I thought there was little a man could do for the mother to hate the father of her child?"

"I don't hate you, but I cannot say that I love you either," Christine said, her heart hammering. How was she supposed to know how she felt? Who did he think he was coming into her home and demanding she answer questions like these?

"You're extremely indecisive, Christine, I thought much better of you. I see the life you live has dulled your senses. I do hope you are keeping that boy's wit up, however."

"He's smarter than the books we give him to read, it's a wonder Raoul doesn't fully know."

"I'll be back next week," he said with a definite tone, turning from her and leaving her bereft. His warmth had radiated, when had he acquired such a thing?

"You're going to continue on with my lessons?"

Honestly, Christine had expected him to never come back or even give any care for the boy he now knew was his. Then again, he'd yet to say anything about caring for Gustave.

"Obviously, your other teachers have lacked, Christine, I thought you would have known better," he said with a tisk, gone right before her eyes.

She was shocked with the way things had gone down, but he never failed to surprise her.

When she went to Gustave, he was out cold, looking all the angel he was born from, and Christine smiled as she tucked him in.

* * *

Erik came every week, true to his word, for the entire month Raoul was gone and tutored Christine. Eventually, since it seemed he was quite the night owl, he helped Gustave as well. The boy didn't need much help however. He was a gifted boy, and with the tender masked-man for a father, it wasn't hard to see why.

The only odd thing about all of the lessons was how he ended them. Once Gustave had run off in his night clothes, Erik would approach her like a tiger pouncing upon its prey and ask her solemnly, "Do you love me?"

Christine's answer was always no. She felt bad responding so negatively sometimes, but he was a cruel man to have done what he did to her, and she couldn't imagine allowing him into her life again… except, she had been imagining it.

In her dreams, Christine saw Gustave and Erik running around in the gardens or through the opera, desperately begging her to play with them. It was sweet, really. Raoul never had time to play with Gustave like that, he'd run after the boy twice… if that. The days in the gardens with falling leaves and petals, warm wind blowing through the air were just fantasies she'd never seen play out. Christine mourned the life she wished she could have had.

"This is our last lesson," Erik told her as they finished her final song for the evening, accurately describing their time together.

"Yes," she spoke unsurely, wondering why he wasn't coming into her space and plucking his question from the air.

"I'll leave you to Vicomte then, Christine. I hope what we have done here was satisfactory to your wants. I am no angel, indeed, but he sends his regards."

"Gustave has grown fond of you… I wish there was a way you could stay."

He chuckled at her, sitting at the piano bench, wasting away on their time alone.

"That would not look good for you, my Christine. Besides, I do not belong in that boy's life. I didn't raise him, some parent I am."

She pitied him sometimes, and while that was not the emotion he begged of her, at least it was something she could readily provide. Christine pitied everyone, even herself sometimes.

"You aren't going to ask me your question?"

"And what question is that?" He wondered, needlessly fixing his perfectly arranged music.

Deciding he was being a complete idiot, Christine walked over to him and stood over him, making it feel odd to be the one in his position.

"Do you love me?" She inquired bluntly.

Without even an inch of hesitation he blurted, "Yes."

Christine didn't entirely know how to respond except with the obligatory response with which one normally says to such a thing.

"I love you too."

It had slipped from her lips easier than any time she'd ever said it to Raoul, and immediately Christine had wished she hadn't said it at all. It was terrible of her to say such things, and with a frightening quickness, she was wrapped into Erik's arms, her head in his chest and his scent overwhelming her.

He did not smell like dungeons, but of nothingness. It was strange for someone not to smell like anything, but Erik did not. He lacked any scent, while Raoul always smelled of rich colognes and terrible whiskeys. Then, he drew back and held her face in his hands, kissing her gently upon the lips, passion enfolding almost serenely, their first time and last time coming back to her mind as fresh as memories made that morning.

How she wished to go back to those moments and chain him to the bed, keeping him for herself forever.

"Take us with you… to your home," she said softly, inhaling his nothingness deeply.

"I can't-" He protested futilely, but he was interrupted as stubbornly.

"Erik, if you leave me again I will perish. I will cease to exist, and then how would you feel? For our poor boy, for my soul? I didn't think I wanted you, but… standing here with you so close and your inevitable departure even closer… I-" she stuttered, taking in a harsh breath, "I don't know what I would do! I cannot take another day here in this empty and terrible manor!"

She dissolved into tears upon his chest, taking comfort only in the soft embrace he offered her.

"My darling, Christine, I love you so dearly. If you sincerely wish it… I will take you and Gustave with me-"

"Do you mean this?" She interrupted loudly, looking up at his masked face desperately, "Say you mean it this time, that I will not awake to my life empty and gone once again."

"I mean it," he whispered, his lips a breath above hers, then upon them in one small motion. It was warm and firm, everything Raoul's kisses were not.

"Take me."

He hardly could protest, and when Raoul came back the next day, he found no wife or son, and he most certainly never would again. For Christine and Gustave were the happiest family in all of France, their new provider not only kinder, but thousands of times more loving and graceful.

Erik stayed on as a teacher, molding both his son and wife into proper singers each, Gustave getting special treatment on his piano playing. And when another joined the family, she was as equally nurtured in her musical prowess.

Christine was only surprised that after all those years of wanting him, her solution had simply been to hire a voice coach.


End file.
